


What's the Difference Between an M and a W Anyway?

by Seravia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kink Meme, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seravia/pseuds/Seravia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this Kink Meme prompt: Arthur gets a tattoo done and the initial design was the letters A and M entwined.  The tattooer messes it up and the result is an A and a W.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's the Difference Between an M and a W Anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> Read on [Livejournal](http://seravia.livejournal.com/9396.html)

"My mother's invited us to have Christmas with her," Arthur heard Merlin say. 

Arthur looked up at Merlin, surprise preventing him from answering immediately. He took in Merlin's deceptively casual stance and the way his eyes weren’t moving over the page in his book.

Arthur cleared his throat. "You know we always spend Christmas with my father, Merlin."

Arthur watched with a frown as Merlin tensed. Still without looking at Arthur, Merlin said, "I know, but my mother says she'd really like to see us this year."

"We go see your mother the day after Christmas every year. You know I could never be cooped up with my father for more than two days in a row. Of course your mother will see us."

Merlin's shoulders heaved as he sighed. "She'd like to see us on Christmas Day for once, Arthur."

"But... Merlin," Arthur said slightly helplessly. "You're not going to make me endure my father on my own, are you?"

At this, Merlin met Arthur's gaze, looking bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"Well if you're going to see your mother on Christmas Day, that obviously means you can't come to my father's with me."

Arthur watched in surprise as Merlin's entire body seemed to fold in on itself, looking the picture of defeat. Merlin scrubbed a hand over his face wearily. “You don’t get it, do you, Arthur?” When Arthur gave no response, Merlin continued. “Will you even care if I’m not there with you?”

“What?” Arthur asked incredulously. “Of course I’ll care!” Merlin straightened slightly, looking mildly hopeful. “I hate having to face my father alone. You’re a much welcomed buffer.” 

Merlin’s shoulders sagged again. “That’s it? I’m just a buffer?”

Say “I’ll miss you,” Arthur’s brain whispered. Arthur dismissed the thought; he hated getting soppy. “Of course not. But it certainly helps.”

“So you won’t miss me?” 

“It’s only two days, right?” Arthur said immediately. Merlin would know what he meant; Merlin always understood what Arthur didn’t say.

“Well fine!” Merlin snapped, throwing down his book and leaping to his feet. “Then I’ll go to my mother’s. Alone. And you can go to your father’s. Alone. And I’ll see you when I get back, darling.”

Arthur froze. When he got back? “You… don’t want me to go to your mother’s after Christmas?”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “It doesn’t seem to matter to you whether or not we’re together, so what’s a couple more days?”

“You’re making me stay at my father’s for a whole week?” Arthur sputtered.

Merlin’s gaze turned icy. “No one’s making you do anything, Arthur. You make your own choices. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“But if I don’t have an excuse to leave, my father will make me stay the entire week!” Arthur exclaimed, feeling a bit desperate.

Merlin stiffened. “An excuse?” he asked, voice dangerously low. “Well then, you won’t have that excuse this year. Good luck finding a new excuse to give your father.”

Finally, Arthur reached the end of his patience. “What is wrong with you today?” he snapped, leaping up off the sofa.

“What’s wrong with me?” Merlin shot back, voice going slightly shrill at the end of his sentence. “Why are you being such a prat?”

“Well you’ve been calling me a prat since the day we met fifteen years ago, so this really shouldn’t be news to you, should it, Merlin?”

“You know what? You’re absolutely right. I have no idea why I wasted so much time with a complete prat! I guess I must have some kind of mental affliction if I’m dating you!”

Arthur shrank back for a moment, stung. In his hurt confusion, Arthur fell back on his tried and true method of dealing with people who were angry with him: shouting and not backing down. “I guess you must! In fact, it must be contagious, because clearly, I would have to have some undiagnosed brain injury to have asked you out!”

Arthur regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth, but he didn’t take them back. Arthur hated being wrong. If Merlin was going to be unreasonable, then he would be unreasonable right back. Arthur widened his stance, attempting to loom over his slightly taller boyfriend. 

The looming seemed to work since Merlin reeled back as if slapped. Arthur felt awful. All he wanted to do was reach out and gather Merlin into his arms, assure him that he didn’t mean it, promise him that he loved Merlin. But he didn’t. 

“So we’re in agreement then,” Merlin said, crossing his arms over his chest, fingers digging into his skin. “This was a horrible mistake. We can put an end to this mistake and move on with our lives.”

Arthur caught himself just before his jaw dropped open. Was Merlin breaking up with him? Arthur searched his boyfriend’s face for any sign of uncertainty. There was no give in those hard blue eyes. 

“Fine,” Arthur replied, using all of his control to keep his voice level as his heart broke. “I’ll be going then.” He spared one more glance at Merlin before grabbing his coat and walking out the door. Just before he pulled the door shut, Arthur turned back to peer at Merlin again. Arthur saw a slight shaking in Merlin’s shoulders as Merlin turned away from the door and a certain brittleness to his stance that wasn’t there before. Arthur attributed both to anger. Gritting his teeth, Arthur slammed the door as hard as he could, taking some perverse pleasure in hearing Merlin stumble and then the sound of glass shattering.

Arthur stormed away from his and Merlin’s flat, intent on putting as much distance as he could between him and his boyfr- ex-boyfriend. What was Merlin’s problem anyway? Arthur hadn’t even done anything. They’d just been discussing what they were doing for Christmas. He didn’t think there had been anything wrong until Merlin suddenly started shouting at him. So Merlin wanted to go see his mother. Fine! He could go see his mother. He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal. One day, two days. Christmas Day, the day after Christmas. What was the difference anyway? Hunith was always understanding. Even when he and Merlin were just friends, Hunith was always perfectly fine to ship Arthur and Merlin off to Uther’s for Christmas. She’d never had a problem with it, so why was Merlin throwing a hissy fit today? This was what they’d done every year for the past ten years. Merlin knew how difficult it was for Arthur to have to make small talk with his father for any period of time longer than ten minutes. That was why he was always so grateful for Merlin’s presence. Merlin never knew what to say, but his clumsiness was a welcome distraction. Admittedly, things got more difficult two years ago when he and Merlin started dating, with Uther’s icy glares and stony silences. But Uther still insisted on spending those two days of the year with his son. Merlin made dealing with Arthur’s father easier for Arthur. When things got hard, Merlin never gave up on them, he was always there, a smile on his lips, hand squeezing Arthur’s comfortingly.

A horrible thought occurred then to Arthur. Was Merlin giving up on them? Was that what this was? Had Merlin finally had enough of the problems in Arthur’s life? Had he finally decided that Arthur wasn’t worth it? Arthur shivered, clutching his coat tighter around himself despite the uncharacteristically warm winter night. Arthur leaned against a wall heavily, stumbling in surprise when the “wall” gave way and opened with a jingle. He looked up and found a neon sign with the words “Destiny’s Tattoos” staring him in the face. Arthur gave a slightly hysterical laugh. He passed this store nearly every day on his way to work. When he and Merlin had first moved into the neighborhood, he would glance wistfully at the tattoo parlor whenever he saw it. Recently, he’d gotten used to seeing it, so much so that he’d forgotten it was here.

Arthur’d wanted a tattoo for years. The idea of getting a tattoo had initially come from Merlin. When they were younger, Merlin had once mentioned seeing a man with tattoos covering most visible parts of his body. Arthur had exclaimed, “Cool!” while Merlin scrunched up his nose in disgust and shook his head.

“I don’t understand tattoos,” Merlin had said. “They just look… weird. And it would hurt!” Merlin had whined, in the way only an eleven-year-old boy could.

Arthur almost smiled at the memory. At the time, Arthur had nodded sagely in agreement. Merlin was the one who’d seen all the tattoos after all. He would know best. Some years later, Arthur brought up the notion of tattoos to his father and earned himself a severe lecture on the “abomination” that was tattoos. 

From there, the idea just stuck in Arthur’s head. He’d never given serious thought to getting a tattoo until Uther had forbidden it so vehemently. Arthur had been sick and tired of living under Uther’s thumb; he was still sick and tired of it. From that point forward, he’d thought that getting a tattoo would be the perfect form of rebellion. However, Arthur’d never had the courage to actually go out and get a tattoo done. Uther’s wrath wasn’t the only thing holding him back. The thought of the look on Merlin’s face if he showed up with a tattoo was enough to make Arthur attempt to banish the thought from his mind. Despite Arthur’s best efforts, the temptation to get a tattoo was never too far from his mind, least of all when Uther was being particularly demanding. It was his escape. When Uther was shouting or telling Arthur how disappointed he was or putting down his relationships or giving any other expressions of dissatisfaction, Arthur took comfort in imagining the kinds of tattoos he could get to spite his father.

Now, however, Arthur was thinking of Merlin’s outrage if he were to return with a tattoo. With a triumphant smirk, Arthur deftly pushed open the tattoo parlor’s door and stepped inside.

"Hello!" came a voice. 

"Hello," Arthur called back cautiously. "…Where are you?" 

"Right here," the voice called back cheerfully. A man with shiny shoulder length hair stepped out from behind a couple shelves. "I'm Gwaine. Sorry, not many customers this time of night."

"No, no, it's no problem," Arthur muttered, eyes darting around nervously. 

"I'm the tattoo artist. What can I do you for?" Gwaine asked, grinning cheekily. 

"A-A tattoo, please," Arthur replied tentatively, still unable to bring himself to meet Gwaine's gaze. 

"Figured as much. What kind?"

Arthur's mouth opened and closed several times soundlessly. 

Gwaine seemed to take pity on him and reached behind the counter for a couple books. "First time, eh? Why don't you browse a bit and let me know when you're done?"

"Thanks," Arthur said gratefully, accepting the books eagerly. 

"Take your time!" Gwaine called as he turned away, waving his hand jauntily. 

Arthur sat down heavily in what he assumed was the waiting area. He glanced at the books in his lap. They looked innocuous, nothing fancy, simple black leather covers with gold lettering. He glanced around the small tattoo parlor. It was neat and clean. Nothing like the dark, smoky, dirty, and scary place Arthur had expected. The door opened with a cheerful jingle for fuck's sake! There were no needles in the open, no scary tattoos displayed on the walls. It was simple, spartan almost. With a sigh of relief, Arthur turned to the books in his lap. He flipped open the first one, then promptly blushed. The images were rather… explicit. No, those tattoos were definitely not what he had in mind. He quickly set that particular book aside.

Arthur gingerly opened the next one, expecting to be assaulted with images of death, doom, and destruction as his father was so keen on proclaiming. To his surprise, he saw designs of flowers, hearts, symbols in foreign languages, and other similarly innocent designs. Arthur flipped through the pages of the books, unsure of what it was he was looking for. Finally, he came upon an intimidating tattoo of a scorpion, all black, poised to strike menacingly. Arthur gave a small grin. Merlin would hate it. Merlin had been terrified of scorpions ever since he was stung by one while he was out alone and somehow managed to stumble into a scorpion’s nest.

When Arthur lifted his head, he was met with the sight of Gwaine’s amused face staring back at him. Arthur raised the book in his hand tentatively and pointed at his tattoo of choice. “This one okay?”

Gwaine came around the counter to peer at the design. He chuckled. “Sure. It’s your choice. If you like it, then you get it. I feel obliged to warn you, the tattoo will last a lifetime. Choose wisely.”

Arthur nodded decisively. “This one. Definitely this one.” Take that, Merlin, Arthur though viciously, Gwaine’s words barely registering in his head.

Gwaine reached behind the counter and presented Arthur with several sheets of paper. “Paperwork,” Gwaine explained. “Waivers and such saying that you know what you signed up for.”

“Got it,” Arthur replied, skimming the waivers before signing with a flourish.

Gwaine gave him a skeptical look but didn’t comment, only taking the waivers. “I’m just gonna set up my equipment before we start, all right?”

“Feel free,” Arthur said, waving his hand in what he felt was a magnanimous manner, leaning back in his chair to feign a confidence he most definitely did not feel.

Arthur stared as Gwaine moved around methodically, cleaning needles, putting equipment together, and preparing ink. He was getting a tattoo. He was getting a tattoo. Arthur gulped. Yes, he was most definitely getting a tattoo. Nothing else those needles could mean. A tattoo of a scorpion. A scorpion that Merlin hated. A scorpion – 

“Ready?” Gwaine’s voice broke through Arthur’s increasingly panicked thoughts.

Arthur glanced at the stencil in Gwaine’s hand. “No!” he blurted out. “I changed my mind!”

Gwaine looked understanding. “Ah, no tattoo today then, sir?”

“Arthur,” Arthur said.

“Arthur then,” Gwaine replied, inclining his head at Arthur slightly. “No tattoo today?”

“No, er, that is, yes. Er –” Arthur fell silent for a moment. Gwaine didn’t speak, only waited for Arthur to continue. Arthur took a deep breath. “Yes, I want a tattoo. Just not… not that one.” He gestured at the scorpion staring him in the face. He wanted to stab it. How dare it hurt his Merlin?

“Ah.” Surprise flickered in Gwaine’s eyes. “Did you have a different one in mind?”

Arthur cleared his throat embarrassedly. He looked away from Gwaine, suddenly unable to meet his eyes again. He reached into his pocket for a piece of crumpled paper he knew was there. Nervously, Arthur smoothed out the scrap of paper. He handed it to Gwaine. 

“That,” Arthur said, voice catching slightly. He cleared his throat again. “That’s the one I’d like.”

Gwaine’s eyebrows shot up his face. He nodded slowly, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Gotcha. I’ll go make a stencil of that now. We’ll begin in a few moments.”

Arthur only nodded in response. His head was still filled with Merlin no matter how much he tried to push him out of his mind. Merlin’s smile, Merlin’s laugh, Merlin’s eyes, Merlin’s tears… No matter the state of their relationship, Arthur could never willfully hurt Merlin. The design he’d just handed Gwaine was one that Arthur had created himself. He’d had a particularly trying day at work the day he’d drawn it, and all Arthur had wanted was to go home and throw himself into Merlin’s arms. Unfortunately, that was not to be that day. So, to spite his father, Arthur had started doodling a tattoo design, which had somehow morphed into an A and an M entwined in what appeared to be an embrace, two interlocked gold rings in the background. When his father called for him, Arthur had shoved the scrap of paper in his pocket hastily, and forgot about it until he was doing laundry later that week. From then on, he started carrying the design with him constantly, refining it on days he felt particularly petulant toward his father. He’d entertained the thought of actually getting the tattoo done, but he’d never acted on the impulse. So the scrap of paper had sat in his pocket for ages, until today. 

Tattoos were permanent. Arthur knew this. He and Merlin were in the middle of a fight. Arthur also knew this. But what he knew just as well was that he loved Merlin, and that he would never stop loving Merlin. No matter how long he lived, Arthur knew that he would never regret this tattoo, regardless if Merlin was at his side or not. There were some things a person just knew, like they knew they needed air to breathe. This was one of those things.

Arthur leaned back in his chair and heaved a sigh.

“Ready?” came Gwaine’s voice again, less amused and more serious this time.

Arthur squared his shoulders and met Gwaine’s gaze confidently. “Yes. I’ve never been more ready.”

“Then follow me. We have more private rooms in the back.”

Arthur nodded and followed Gwaine wordlessly. Arthur settled himself awkwardly in a large leather chair, one resembling a dentist’s chair. He glanced at the array of needles and ink beside him before quickly averting his gaze.

“Where would you like the tattoo, Arthur?” Gwaine asked, not unkindly.

“My hip,” Arthur replied, refusing to meet Gwaine’s gaze.

“Can do,” Gwaine said cheerfully, pressing a button to make the chair recline. Arthur pulled his clothing aside nervously, and Gwaine helped him secure his jeans and t-shirt away from his hipbone. 

Gwaine wiped Arthur’s skin with some kind of antiseptic, chattering about what he was doing all the while, explaining what the variety of liquids he was using were for. Arthur jumped when the man pulled a razor out.

“What’s that for?” Arthur most definitely did not squeak.

“Gotta make sure nothing gets in the way of the needles and ink. All the hair’s gotta be gone. This okay?” Gwaine answered, pausing in his practiced movements.

Arthur eyed the razor nervously but gave a nod of assent. Arthur felt the cool blade of the razor touch his skin and slide over his hip. Gwaine’s movements were gentle but deft, clinical.

“All done,” Gwaine assured Arthur when he set the razor aside. “Not too bad, right?”

“No,” Arthur said shakily. He closed his eyes wearily, already feeling drained, tightly wound nerves stretching him to his breaking point.

Gwaine rubbed Arthur’s hip with more liquid before pressing on the stencil he’d created. Arthur felt the gentle press of Gwaine’s gloved fingers against the stencil paper, aligning the stencil then moistening it to secure the design to Arthur’s skin. Arthur didn’t dare look down, only kept his head firmly turned away, eyes tightly shut.

Arthur felt the stencil peel away from his skin, acutely aware of each bit of skin that was revealed as the stencil was removed. Ointment was applied. Gwaine reached for his needles.

Arthur gulped.

“I’m about to begin,” Gwaine said. Was that a warning tone in his voice?

“Go ahead,” Arthur replied roughly.

The buzzing of the machine started. 

“Ready?”

“Ready!” Arthur snapped.

Arthur felt the needle enter his skin. It felt like a bee sting. Many, many, many times. Arthur gritted his teeth against the pain.

“Relax,” Gwaine murmured.

Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, Arthur chanted mentally. After a while, the pain began to subside and Arthur was able to unclench his aching jaw. When he took in his first deep breath since the process started, he heard Gwaine chuckle.

“Not so bad, right, princess?”

“No, piece of cake,” Arthur shot back, heart rate beginning to come back down to normal.

“So, now that you don’t look like you’re about to snap in half, why’d you want the tattoo? You’re clearly nervous about your first one,” Gwaine asked conversationally, machine still buzzing as the needle continued its work.

Arthur sighed. He might as well talk. He was going to be here for a while. “It’s been something I’ve wanted for years. My father’s the kind of father that expects his children to fit a certain mold. If we don’t… he expects us to bend to fit it; he doesn’t alter the mold. For years, all I wanted was his approval, wanted desperately to fit that mold. But I didn’t. And I don’t. I wanted the option of doing something for myself, something he would hate but I would love. That’s where the tattoo comes in.”

“So you wanted to rebel.”

“I did,” Arthur agreed. “Despite all that, I couldn’t. Oh, I thought about getting a tattoo plenty. I just couldn’t actually bring myself to do it. Then, one day, I looked at my best friend, and suddenly he wasn’t just my best friend anymore. He was my world. That very day, I told my father I was gay. He started shouting, throwing things, even threatening to disinherit me. I never budged. It felt freeing. Doing something for myself, that is. Knowing my father didn’t approve, but that he couldn’t do anything about it. It was brilliant. I’d found an even better form of rebellion without even trying to. It only got better when my best friend and I started dating. I swear I thought my father was going to have a seizure every time he saw us together. That just made an already brilliant relationship even better.” Arthur allowed himself a grin here. “Of course, that’s not to say I don’t love my boyfriend. I do. Very much. Getting to annoy my father is just a plus.”

“So why didn’t you get the tattoo earlier? If doing something for yourself felt so good, why wait?”

Arthur scrunched up his nose slightly. He felt Gwaine shift and fiddle with something on the table. He returned moments later and the needle entered his skin again. “My boyfriend isn’t a fan of tattoos. He finds them a bit… odd. He told me this when we were eleven years old, but it always stuck with me. As much as I wanted a tattoo, he was more important. If he wasn’t going to approve, I wasn’t going to push it. It wasn’t as if getting a tattoo was a do or die kind of thing.”

“Why now? He’s not important anymore?”

“No!” Arthur exclaimed. “Of course not! There’s nothing more important to me than him. We just had this huge fight. He wants us to go to his mother’s for Christmas. But we always visit my father. I can’t get out of seeing my father, and he seemed to really want to see his mother. Before I knew it, he was shouting about me ‘not getting it’ and telling me I shouldn’t join him at his mother’s at all. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal, but then he said our relationship was a mistake. Well if he thinks that, if he wants to end this mistake, well… yeah,” Arthur trailed off a bit pathetically.

Gwaine hummed slightly. “So you wanted to do something for yourself again. With no gay bomb to drop, you went for the slightly tamer option?”

Arthur laughed wearily. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did.” Arthur sighed. “That’s what the tattoo’s about. It’s our initials. I doodled it one day and I guess it just stuck. At first, I wanted the worst thing I could think of as my tattoo just so I could go back home and rub it in his face. But I love him. I really do. And if something’s going to stay on my skin for the rest of my life, I’d sure as hell prefer it be his initial rather than the thing he hates most in the world.”

The buzzing stopped and Arthur opened his eyes tentatively. Gwaine shot him a small smile and patted his hip gently. “It’ll be fine, mate. Hearing how much you love him, I can’t quite believe he wouldn’t take you back.”

With a cheeky grin, Gwaine spread another layer of ointment over the tattoo and promptly slapped on a bandage. “Leave the bandage on overnight, wash it tomorrow when you get up, make sure to pat it dry and not rub, and use a cream to moisturize. No swimming or using a sauna. Keep the tattoo out of the sun. And make sure to wear loose clothing. It’s the equivalent of a wound. Gotta take care of it for it to heal properly. Got it?” He handed Arthur a sheet of paper with the same instructions on it.

“I think I’ve got it. Thanks, Gwaine.” Arthur followed Gwaine back out to the front of the tattoo parlor and paid for the tattoo.

As Arthur was walking out the door, he heard Gwaine call out, “Good luck, mate!” Arthur waved his thanks over his shoulder.

Arthur slowly made his way back to his and Merlin’s flat, wondering what he would say when he walked in the door. Would Merlin still be angry? Would he be angry enough to demand Arthur move out? Did… Arthur’s thoughts faltered. Did Merlin really want this to be the end for them?

Arthur paused outside his own front door for several moments before gathering up the courage to push the door open.

“Arthur!”

The moment he stepped over the threshold, Arthur found his arms full of a babbling Merlin. Arthur winced as Merlin’s bony hip jabbed at his tender skin.

“Oh god, Arthur, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it, I promise. I really didn’t mean what I said. I was angry, so angry. I didn’t know what I was saying. We can do whatever you want. I don’t know what I was thinking. It doesn’t matter where we go, it really doesn’t – ”

“Merlin,” Arthur said softly into Merlin’s ear.

Merlin shut up immediately. “Arthur?” he asked shakily.

Arthur could feel Merlin’s thin frame trembling in his arms. He hugged Merlin closer. “It’s okay. It’s all okay. I’m sorry too.”

“You don’t think you have some undiagnosed brain injury for having asked me out?” Merlin asked in a small voice, not lifting his face from Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur felt his heart clench. How could he have said such a thing? The undiagnosed brain injury had obviously been present when it hadn’t occurred to him to ask Merlin out. It had most definitely cleared up after asking Merlin out. “No, no,” Arthur said soothingly, rocking Merlin in his arms comfortingly. “I could never think that. And… you don’t think we’re a mistake?”

Merlin turned shocked blue eyes toward him. “Never!” Merlin replied, shaking his head vehemently. “I was just angry, Arthur. You must know that I didn’t mean it.” He sent Arthur a smile that managed to look pleading and besotted at the same time.

Arthur finally felt his face relax into a grin. “I know,” he whispered into Merlin’s neck. “God, how could I have ever doubted you?” Arthur felt the smile spread across Merlin’s face and the slightest press of lips against his shoulder.

“Then why don’t I show you exactly why you should never doubt me?” Merlin purred in Arthur’s ear.

Arthur shuddered. Merlin’s hot breath in his ear and Merlin’s hands roaming over Arthur’s body were enough to wipe his mind clean. He forgot all the anger, all the guilt, all the pain, and he forgot about the very prominent bandage on his hip covering the very new tattoo.

Merlin walked backwards, pulling Arthur with him toward the bedroom, a filthy smirk on his face. Arthur followed obediently, body yearning for Merlin’s touch. All Arthur could do was lean against Merlin and suck bruises into Merlin’s neck as Merlin divested them both of their clothing. Arthur fell back against the bed, writhing as Merlin pressed open-mouthed kisses down his chest, tongue flicking playfully over a nipple as he made his way down. He groaned when Merlin palmed his cock through his jeans. 

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped. Arthur arched upward as Merlin’s tongue dipped into his navel.

As his jeans slid down over his hips, Arthur felt rather than heard Merlin’s sharp intake of breath. 

“Merlin?”

Arthur felt cool fingers probing at his hip gently. The haze over Arthur’s mind lifted as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over his head. Arthur’s head snapped up. “Mer – ” 

It was too late. Merlin had already peeled back the bandage, his worried expression dissolving into one of shock. 

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, voice sounding hurt.

“Merlin, I promise I can explain,” Arthur said desperately.

Merlin pulled away, dodging Arthur’s attempts to pull him into his arms. “You got a tattoo.” Merlin’s tone was surprisingly level.

“I – er, yes,” Arthur replied, lowering his eyes guiltily.

“Just now.”

“I… yes.”

“You said you loved me. You said you didn’t regret asking me out.”

Arthur was confused. He did love Merlin. And of course he didn’t regret asking him out! He looked at Merlin strangely. “What does that have to do with the tattoo?”

Merlin met Arthur’s gaze and Arthur flinched at the betrayed look in Merlin’s blue eyes. “Who’s ‘W’?” Merlin snapped.

“What?” Arthur felt even more bewildered that before. W? “What are you going on about?”

Merlin jabbed a finger at the tattoo. “Look at the damn tattoo!” 

So Arthur did. And his mouth went dry. There was the tattoo he’d just gotten today. Black lettering. Gold rings in the background. An A and a… W. What the hell happened to the M? “It’s a W,” Arthur said, struck dumb.

“Yes, it most certainly is!” Merlin snarled. “Why is it a W, Arthur? Is there something I should know?”

Arthur’s head snapped up. “What?” Arthur slid off the bed and adjusted the bandage over his tattoo before buttoning his jeans properly. “How could you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Arthur. Maybe because you have a fucking tattoo with your and someone else’s initials on your body? Unless that A and W were actually supposed to spell ‘aw.’ Forgive for thinking you aren’t the kind of person to tattoo the word ‘aw’ on your body,” Merlin shot back, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring daggers at Arthur.

“It was a mistake!” Arthur yelled back. Merlin flinched and Arthur winced mentally at his choice of words. “The tattoo was a mistake,” he amended hastily. “The W was meant to be an M, but the tattoo artist must have messed up.” Arthur reached into his pocket for the scrap of paper with the tattoo design, thrusting it at Merlin. “Look! This is what I drew!”

Merlin took the paper petulantly, but his gaze softened slightly when he saw the design. “The tattoo was a mistake? Or the tattoo artist made a mistake?” Merlin asked softly.

Arthur paused. “The second one,” he whispered.

“You wanted a tattoo.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“You never said anything.”

A pause. “No.”

“Why not?” Merlin’s voice was soft, but carefully controlled.

“I knew you didn’t like them. I didn’t want you to disapprove.” Arthur felt like a seven year old again, confessing to his father to having stolen the cookies from the kitchen.

Merlin looked taken aback at Arthur’s admission. “You didn’t want me to disapprove?” Merlin echoed. “I… I’m not your father, Arthur. You’re free to do what you want. If you wanted a tattoo, you were certainly always free to get one. You never needed my ‘approval.’”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Merlin insisted, walking forward to wrap his arms around Arthur. This time, it was Arthur who stepped away. Merlin froze, arms dropping back to his sides.

“Arthur?” he asked uncertainly.

Arthur raised his eyes to meet Merlin’s gaze. “Why were you so keen on believing I was cheating on you?”

Merlin paled. He mumbled something incomprehensible.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“I said that you could do so much better,” Merlin repeated more clearly. “I have my insecurities, you know.”

It was Arthur’s turn to look surprised. “Have you met you?” Arthur asked incredulously. “There’s no one better.”

Merlin blushed prettily. “Thanks,” he muttered. “But you don’t need to flatter me.”

Arthur was mystified. Did Merlin really not know how wonderful he was? “But I’m not,” Arthur said honestly. 

“I’ve always wondered…” Merlin cut himself off, blush deepening.

Arthur’s curiosity was piqued. “You always wondered what?”

“Nothing. It’s not important.”

“It was obviously very important.”

“Forget it.”

“I will not.”

“Arthur…”

“Merlin.”

“Really, Arthur…”

Arthur shot Merlin a look and Merlin sighed. Merlin collapsed on to the sofa and curled in on himself. 

“I always wondered if our relationship meant as much to you as it does to me,” Merlin whispered. “You’ve mentioned how good it feels to be able to throw our relationship in your father’s face. You’re more affectionate than usual when we’re around your father. And then our plans for Christmas… I just… couldn’t help but wonder. That’s all.” Merlin sneaked a peek at Arthur before burying his face in his drawn up knees.

Arthur stared at the top of Merlin’s head. Arthur wanted to slap himself. What kind of horrible boyfriend was he that Merlin wondered if Arthur really loved him? “Merlin…”

“No, Arthur,” Merlin said suddenly, straightening up. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Everyone’s insecure sometimes, right?” He attempted a cheery smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Arthur shook his head. “You shouldn’t ever think that, Merlin. No matter how much I love showing my father how little control he has over me these days, I will never love doing that more than I love you.” Arthur blushed. He wasn’t used to being soppy. Talking was never his strong suit. He was a man of action, and he thought that would be enough to show Merlin how he felt. Evidently, he hadn’t done a good enough job.

Merlin’s eyes softened. “Really?”

“Really. So you’d better find some new insecurities, because I declare the current ones invalid.” Arthur took hold of Merlin’s arm and dragged him up against his side so Arthur could wrap his arms around Merlin.

Merlin relaxed slightly and even let out a small, breathless laugh. “Arthur?” he said again.

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing about Christmas?” Merlin asked hesitantly, voice slightly muffled by Arthur’s chest.

Arthur shot Merlin a fond smile. He kissed the top of Merlin’s head. When Merlin turned his head to meet Arthur’s eyes, Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s lips. When Merlin’s eyes fluttered open again, Arthur gave a besotted smile and said, “We’ll go to your mother’s, of course, Merlin.”

END


End file.
